By Candy Feliciano
For Variety
“I INITIALLY told my wife that I didn’t want to talk to [Diego] because I will break down.”
That is the sound of a loved one’s heart already shattered by the news. When Mario Taitano, who affectionately called him ‘Niao’ (Brother-in-law), finally spoke to him, his fear was realized: “He called, and I cried uncontrollably when I answered.”
The death of Diego Tenorio Benavente on Nov. 20, at the age of 66, was not merely the loss of a public servant, but the undoing of a profound human anchor in the Northern Mariana Islands. He passed away peacefully at his home in As Lito, surrounded by the family he cherished, having chosen his final chapter with a selfless dignity that defined his entire existence.
Diagnosed with acute leukemia, Diego faced the diagnosis with a profound, quiet strength. He looked at the brutal path of aggressive treatment and made a decision that summed up his priorities: he chose the warmth of his wife, Vicky, his children, and his home. This was a final, powerful act of love. He knew that the fight, as described by his friend, former Secretary Joe Guerrero, would “at best, prolong his life a few more weeks or months, and he didn’t want to burden his family.”
This was not surrender; it was sanctuary. He spared those he cherished the exhaustion and financial drain of the battle. Family friend Patricia Camacho, who had worked with “the Benavente couple,” knew the gravity of his choice, stating that “treatment takes so much from finances and physical toil, not just of the patient, but from the entire family.” Diego chose presence over pain. He even had a party in August, just a few months before his passing, where Camacho witnessed his enduring zest for life: “He was dancing, he was all smiles, he was so energetic.”
He lived his remaining days exactly as he planned, telling his Bradda Boyz: “With this remaining time of mine, I will do what I love doing, spend time with my families, go fishing, play golf with my Bradda Boyz, and drink beer.” Even after his diagnosis, he worked to preserve these moments of connection, making sure everyone felt seen. Tinian Mayor Edwin Aldan recalled that even though “he was at the hospital, he wanted to go home and spend time with his family,” and when friends visited, “He was still making sure that they get to meet with him when they visit. Now that’s Diego, very thoughtful and accommodating to the people, friends, and families.” His loved ones could only reflect: “I know it was painful to accept the fate, but we understand it.”
Diego Benavente’s character was the very mortar that held the community together. He was a constant, steady voice whose public service was simply an extension of his profound kindness. His first cousin, Alicia Agulto, captured the communal reverence for him: “Mr. Diego Benavente is deeply respected throughout the CNMI for the person he is. Gentle, caring, and genuine, he is truly a people’s person.”
His sincerity resonated with everyone. “He is loved by the community, always greeting others with a warm smile and treating everyone with equal respect.” This genuine integrity formed the basis of his long career. “His integrity and honesty are evident in everything he does,” Agulto affirmed, concluding simply, “Without a doubt, he is a wonderful person to all.” Juan Tenorio, who witnessed his public interactions daily, described him as “charismatic, respectful and always, always exhibits his welcoming and friendly SMILES!”
His leadership style was rooted in this universal respect. Lt. Gov. Dennis Mendiola, who was both his relative (“He is the Uncle to my wife”) and his professional protégé, attested to his calming presence. “One of his best qualities is that he was able to diffuse any intense situation,” Mendiola recalled, a power that came from the trust he commanded: “His effective diffusion stems from the respect of the people around him.” Mendiola relied on his guidance: “He is the father of the office and reminds me of things I needed to be doing.”
His commitment to service was absolute; he simply “loves to serve, that’s all there is.” This was a man of action, as Speaker Edmund Villagomez, who extended his condolences to “his wife Auntie Vicky,” noted: “He was always willing to help when needed. He was a committed public servant.” Even in office, he maintained a joyous nature. Executive Secretary Leticia Palacios recalled that “he carried a high-spirited nature, always humble, always joyful, and he entered the office each day with a warm smile that uplifted everyone around him,”
To his inner circle, Diego was a boundless source of encouragement and camaraderie. “Diego was always the guy to hold the group together,” whether they were discussing policy or hitting the links with the Bradda Boyz. Joe Itibus described him as a “very delightful person that when you’re around him, it makes you feel comfortable that even if it’s your first time, he’ll try to make sure that you are not out of the crowd.” To Itibus, he was an “all-around dude, down to earth.”
Former Speaker Joe Guerrero considered him “a great role model, a mentor, confidant, my kompaire, and one of my closest friends.” Their bond was forged over two decades: “Our professional and personal relationship really began in 2002… for the next two decades, we shared many experiences that only made us closer.” Their greatest joys were often shared outside the office: “The fondest memories are probably the many happy sessions (usually at his house) after golf with the ‘Bradda Boyz,’ or on the dance floor dancing to Palauan music.”
Diego was a constant source of encouragement. Mendiola depended on him: “He has been around my corner always” and “He keeps me motivated; he keeps me on my feet.” Public Information Officer Jay Aldan shared the cherished advice he received: “While telling me a story he once said: ‘Accept your regrets and if you can help it, do be better.’ ”
His favorite pastimes were well-known: “Everyone knows his top three: Golfing, Fishing and Affairs of the Government.” Joji Taguchi, who felt like an “older brother” to him, called him “the definition of a true gentleman and sportsman, competitive yes, but always in a way that made the game enjoyable for everyone around him. Win or lose, we always had fun.”
On the golf course, Joe Itibus shared a moment that captured their camaraderie. After a playful jinx caused two friends to miss their putts, Diego was up to tie the hole. He missed it too, then looked at Itibus and said, “The man above always listens to you ‘cause you go to Mass daily.” Itibus added, “We all laughed, joked more, and continued on. And that’s Lt. – he’ll just say something nice.”
His passion for fishing was renowned. Police Sgt. Joey Cruz fondly remembered “waiting for team Victoria to arrive surprising us with their catch during fishing tournaments.” Diego was generous with his knowledge, sharing “trolling techniques” and, just two months before his passing, his “Marlin and Wahoo spots.” Executive Secretary Leticia Palacios knew he cherished “the simple joys of fishing and golfing during his free time.”
Diego lived his life by connecting and giving, a philosophy crystallized in his ultimate compliment: “The one he often says when he wants to compliment someone is: ‘When I grow up I want to be just like you.’”
In his final months, Diego’s quiet mentorship continued. Former Sen. Vinnie Sablan, who worked closely with him, spoke of his institutional knowledge: “What stood out most was his passion for sharing that knowledge with others. The lessons he passed on will continue to guide me throughout my own journey in public service.”
Diego Benavente’s life was a master class in humility, integrity, and joy. He died not in defeat, but in triumph, a man who got to choose his final days and fill them with heart. He left Mendiola with a humorous, yet meaningful, challenge regarding the future of the Commonwealth: “He told me, ‘If I start something that he doesn’t like, he will haunt me.’ ”
His legacy is one of “honor, humility, and unwavering commitment.” We mourn the statesman, but we weep for the man who was “jolly and happy,” the mentor, the kompaire, the “Niao.”
In a final moment of shared wisdom with his closest friends, he left them with his essential truth, the core principle he lived by every single day.
“He was telling all of us to live a full life, to have a wonderful family, to serve the family.”
